Maybe, Maybe Not
by dandelion-heart
Summary: The world has changed but they have not. Somehow, they still remember how to move with each other, speak in whispers; they know how to love.


_**M**_**aybe, **_**M**_**aybe **_**N**_**ot**

* * *

It was time for the brisk jog before the cool dawn and he pulled his hood over his spiky black hair.

The dull thumps of feet on icy earth restlessly beat themselves into his head, a lullaby that coaxed him to simply keep running.

His head was down and a bead of sweat rolled down the curve of his jaw, his lips parting as puffs of white smoke slipped into the icy wind.

He didn't even notice the path, concentrating only on the cleats of the guy in front of him, whispers and chants of individual lullabies permeating his focused gaze.

He did notice when she, just from the corner of his eye, hurled a ball, perfect and white, at him.

He turned his head, eyes wide, mouth open.

-/-\-

She faced the ground, the frozen grass tips shaking slightly from the team pounding into the ground their blind power.

Her hands tightened their grip on her knees and she let her head drop past the perfect parallel position of her above the dirt.

It was snowing and the other girls, lazily spinning in the colorless background, colorful pom poms forgotten, seemed like snowflakes on their own.

Her fingers dug into the cold and nimbly shaped her bullet as she peered through her curtain of long, black hair.

She could see him, taller than the rest, his head ducked and his visible breath hardly visible in contrast to the other players' continuous exhalations.

She smiled and shot it out of her slender hand.

-/-\-

He could hardly ever wait for longer than a few minutes, tapping his fingers against the hood of his car, but whenever he saw her, he rolled his eyes and grinned sheepishly.

It was a very quick grin, always.

-/-\-

She secretly waited for a few moments, waiting until she saw him half turn, and then groan and she would giggle before opening the door, all set and ready as she had been before to just watch him there, waiting for her.

She made sure to open the door as slowly as possible.

-/-\-

She would always ask for sugar on her popcorn and though he had blanched at first, then spouted off his complaint over how picky and strange she was, he'd go and make a fool out of himself, his intimidating gaze always killing any potential questions about the odd combination.

-/-\-

He never enjoyed watching television unless it was the sports channels so she would try not to open the screen with one of her cooking or game shows.

He would silently moan and stare disbelieving at her and though she found it adorable, it made him even more excited for his sports.

She had a promise of sorts, and a game that he never knew about- that she would entertain his fancy before letting him learn about the great qualities of the fine arts.

But the day that they lost cable was the day she accepted that no matter what game she played, his eyes would not be dry if they were not fixed on the game on T.V.

-/-\-

He loved spicy foods; also, he really did like her cooking.

He just wished those two weren't lies he constantly smirked out whenever she made dinner.

-/-\-

She had found out long ago that her face needed make-up for one reason- she looked like a vampire without it.

Her face was so pale and smooth that he called her "moon" in the midday.

She could not wear lipstick no matter how much rogue she applied on her cheeks but she delighted in eyeliner and mascara, dark and solid that made her eyes glow.

She also liked that it made her different on the team, where her small, petite frame and oddly bright gothic features stood in stark contrast to the plain, whitewashed girls beside her.

She was the loveliest one on the team, he would grunt after the game, and it never failed to make her laugh to see wondering faces observe her unusual looks and find her with one of the players, acting as a normal girl, as feminine as the sport she danced.

-/-\-

It was all about physical contact and when he raced into the throw, hands outstretched to find that missile that only belonged to him, he found that beyond his armor and the barrier encasing his head, saving all his thoughts, it was the escape of hands grabbing at him and his goal that he loved.

He loved the way he simply needed to run and to understand that there was a finish line.

He hated having to follow the rules, on the road, or at the table, or at school where his eraser was his best friend and the droning voice his greatest enemy.

Here though he was safe.

And, he knew just from the corner of his eye, he had a glowing angel on the sidelines with eyes only for him.

-/-\-

She hated his car.

That was the only thing she said about it, though he knew not to take it personally- she didn't like cars overall.

-/-\-

Summer was too fleeting, and he would always use it in his English assignments, because it was too easy to find the emotion of losing the sunlight and the time basking in the rays.

He hated expressing himself, but with poems, he could put down one thought and cover it all with words.

She appreciated that best about him, that she could coax him out of anything he felt by pressing her brow to his and letting her small hands find their hold on his broad shoulders.

He also was meaning to ask her to write down stuff for him.

She knew enough about being blunt to elaborate it in her wise and perpetually laughing look, hooded by ink that he found intoxicating.

He called her a gypsy once and when she cocked her head, reading him from that angle so that he was forced to keep talking, though he said he hated it and only let himself do it around her because she would draw closer and whisper, he had a thought.

He wrote her down in his poem.

It had to end though- his teacher showed it to her and he swore to stick to butterflies and popsicles and silly yellow sunshine.

-/-\-

He was so tall sometimes that when her wrapped his arms around her and she smelled the faint scent of smoke and musky weed, she wasn't afraid to fall into him.

He tasted good as well, though his smell, so strong and mature was what made her close her eyes and bury her face into his warm leather jacket.

She didn't need to put the cigarette to her lips; she just needed to inhale and feel him soar into her every pore.

-/-\-

She was very serious when she studied and though he carelessly rifled through the pages asking her every question and receiving an answer with a detailed explanation, he never liked it.

It was never jealousy though the boys would joke about it in the car, trying to find one flaw in him.

It was true though, he could never think that way about her, the girl that was so skinny that he could literally push her into himself and the girl who had the largest eyes he had ever seen, the attempts at coloring her skin only making her face small and those eyes huger.

He touched her tenderly and talked gruffly and between the growls and the harried scowls, he kept wishing he could simply hold her and not wait through the traffic.

She'd laugh and when he made a right turn, shifting his body with the direction of the wheel, she'd pull into him and kiss him, her breath perfumed and fresh.

-/-\-

She didn't really like the sound of the phrase "social butterfly."

It made him sound so vulnerable that she giggled quietly to herself and stroked one long finger down his face as he slept, snoring gently, hidden in her room in the dead of night.

She was dependable, as he termed it, and she never did fail in surprising the others, people trying to find some way to explain away her eccentric clothing and clipped speech and brushed face.

She was intelligent and that termed her "misunderstood" with the teachers, and when she was honest and biting but beautiful, she was known as "the queen," and when a student found her in the park, a bowl filled with the powder beside her and her math homework finished and her lighting the lighter, she was "normal."

She wished being wise had something to do with it, she would muse as he stirred and tugged her closer to him.

-/-\-

He hadn't really meant to find her, it was an accident.

He knew her from the snow earlier in the day and how people had cursed that it was the white witch's fault but he had like feeling the cold snow over his cold sweat.

He offered her a cigarette and she simply let him sit there, no flirting or questioning, accepting his failure and mistake and not caring when he barked at the air for all his clumsy handlings.

She had finally stood up and told him to relax, because he loved the game.

He finally took one good look at her, the light distorted over her under the bleachers where a few stragglers wandered above.

They were under it all but they were over it too, he was over it, and her smile and very dark eyes had already beckoned him to stand and just let it go.

-/-\-

She loved the solitude but she loved the company and when his family greeted her, used to the appearance of a black and white goddess, he would slink away and just watch, a beer in one hand, as she smiled and let them know once again that she was very, very happy.

Their first kiss had been when she, childish and innocent and so pure, worried and anxious but still filled with that agonizing amount of wisdom and hope had caught his lower lip and he had been quite aghast.

It was meant to be my move, he tried to explain though she was laughing quietly, eyes gleaming.

-/-\-

He must have still regretted never taking the first kiss, she pondered when he slept on, shirt off in the summer heat, her gossamer sleeping gown untouched.

She didn't need to signal him for it; she knew the other girls already hated how uneventful their outside affairs were and how dedicated they were to each other and how they were holding hands but he never seemed to be annoyed unless she started talking too much.

He shouldn't get annoyed, they would try to reason to her as she pulled the uniform over her head.

He's just waiting for it, she would smile knowingly, tossing her long hair out.

And they would grimace, trying to understand how he and she did it, holding hands and straying away without breaking apart.

She didn't have to signal for it after all; he did know right when the heat had become too much for the ceiling fan to control that her gown needed to slip off her willowy frame.

-/-\-

That was all it took, he thought later, his gown and cap weighing heavily on him, the finale of all their futures bubbling outside.

The people everywhere around him were a sea of players he would have torn through a long time ago if the lone finish line hadn't come slowly towards him.

She lifted her mouth in greeting and he found himself drowning in her smooth lips.

That was all it took after all, he realized.

She just needed to be there and he would finally see her, a light at the end of the tunnel, the grass he collided with at the end of every game, the way he loved her.

-/-\-

She didn't bother saying anything and let him enjoy life right there, trying to inch him past standing to running alongside of her.

She heard him follow and when he bent down to pull her up, she saw them both back there again, where she had caught his attention from the snow and he had brought her happiness under the bleachers and they had found something else past his dreaded car and her hot room…

-/-\-

The End.

Maybe, maybe not.

* * *

**A/N:** Another challenge in my and Nayuki-Bunny's tournament, which is the best way to really make the creative writing ideas flow and the randomness spark up. I don't know really anything about this couple, but with a little prep and some info from Nayuki, I took inspiration from "dreamland" by Sarah Dessen and spun my own completely random AU take on these two! Hopefully I kept some traces of their original characters and managed to entertain some of you readers. Review if you enjoyed!


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